


Caring is Not an Advantage

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Brother Mine [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ballet, Betrayal, Crossdressing, Gen, Guilt, Hurt, Investigation, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Violence, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Sherlock Scott Holmes knows something is wrong. Everyone is acting strange. They're crying all the time, and they keep hugging him and reminding him that they love him. He decides to track down the reason they're all upset, and begins to uncover the secrets kept around his home. </p><p>He discovers that Rudy cross dresses, the maid and his bodyguard are dating, and that some of the staff are stealing. </p><p>What he doesn't find out is that Mycroft is planning to send him away, and while he's busy trying to make things better: everyone else is struggling to say goodbye. </p><p>Neither brother knows it yet, but they've both run out of time. </p><p>(Tags are not all encompassing, and warnings will be delivered at the start of each chapter to avoid spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fifth part of my Brother Mine series. It is also the most graphic to date. Warnings will be delivered at the beginning of each chapter, and should be taken into consideration. 
> 
> It would be best to read earlier sections of this series prior to reading this. 
> 
> Much thanks to my wonderful new beta-reader: Chanel. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, please let me know if you see any and I will change them immediately.

William knew something was wrong. He knew it deep in his bones and he could see it wherever he went. Rudy had taken to hugging him tight whenever he was in the kitchen with her. He’d caught Alice crying at one point. Even Greg looked more tense than usual. Mycroft wasn’t talking to him about any of it, and instead seemed to teeter between being more affectionate than he’d been in months and being as cold as ice.

 

“Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?” William asked Red Beard one night. Mycroft was working with Kent in his office again and try as he might: William still couldn’t convince his brother to tell him what he was doing as a pirate.

 

Mycroft made a point to come home more often than he did before, though. Even if Kent didn’t come with him, he always came back to eat dinner and tuck William into bed. He ran a hand through William’s curls and even dared to pet Red Beard (who was often disgruntled by his affection). “Sleep well, little brother.” Mycroft told him gently, and William wished he could work out just what it was that was making him so sad.

 

When Kent came home, he would sit with them in the library. He put aside his paperwork more frequently and instead took out a violin and played it for them while they read together. Mycroft would pull William to his chest and listen to everything William wanted to talk about; and the whole experience was frightening and uncomfortable.

 

“Are you unwell?” He asked Kent one evening while Mycroft was getting a snack together for them. William wouldn’t eat it, he was too worked up at the moment, but Mycroft wanted it anyway.

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

“Because everyone’s been acting funny and they keep looking at your office door when they don’t think I’m looking. They’re worried, and they all love you. Are you? Ill?” Kent smiled at him and motioned for him to come closer. He did, Red Beard following him with great padded strides.

 

The Irish Setter had grown to half his full height and was filling out now around his shoulders and hind quarters. He’d lost much of his puppy fur and William had found several baby teeth over the past few weeks. He’d taken to collecting them in a drawer by his bed to compare them to Red Beard’s adult teeth when he got older.

 

“You’re observant, aren’t you? You always know when something’s amiss.”

 

“I see lots of things, but I don’t understand it all. I know there’s… _something_ wrong, but I don’t know what. Are you ill? You don’t _look_ ill. If you are, Mike’s really good at making me feel better. He’d help you if you were.”

 

“I’m not ill, Will.” Kent told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Though I do need your brother’s help for a while. I’m going to have to take him from you for a lot longer than usual. You might not see him that often.” William frowned at that and considered it very carefully. He didn’t like the idea of it much at all. Red Beard even whined at his side and Red Beard _hated_ Mycroft.

 

“Is it very important?” William asked carefully.

 

“Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without his help. I’m getting too old for this kind of work and he’s going to be very good at it.”

 

“You’re not old. You’re immortal. You’ll live forever.” William told him. Kent laughed loudly at that.

 

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

 

“I don’t know, but you seem too stubborn to die for no good reason. You’re going to stick around forever, aren’t you?”

 

“I’ll certainly try. You are right, though. I’m not going to die for no reason.” Kent pat his head and then knelt down so he was at eye level with him. “You’re a good boy, you know that?”

 

“Not really, I’m an idiot.” William said honestly. Kent’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Your brother has many fine qualities, but his worst has to be his inability to see the effect he has on you. You take everything he says to heart and you really shouldn’t.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re no idiot, William. You’re one of the smartest children I’ve ever met and if he calls you that again you’re to remind him that you’re seven years younger than he is and if he still thinks you’re an idiot he should try to remember what _he_ was like when he was your age.” William’s mouth opened, but Kent pressed his finger to his lips. “The world is full of people who will call you horrible things just because they can. They’ll say it because of reckless emotion and ill inspired feeling. Your brother’s worried for you and he’s impatient for you to be the same age as him. It’ll never happen. You’re very smart, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

 

“But who’s to say that _you’re_ not speaking from reckless emotion, and really I’m just as idiotic as Mycroft says?” William countered. Kent paused for a moment and then laughed once more.

 

“Because of that argument right there. No idiot reasons so thoroughly.” He took hold of his violin once more and hesitated for a moment. “Shall I teach you how to play, then?”

 

“Yes, please!” William enthused happily.

 

Mycroft re-entered the room to find Kent kneeling on the ground with William in front of him. He balanced the violin on William’s collarbone and helped him steady the instrument as the child chopped the bow over the strings. The sound wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but the longer they worked at it the better it became. William was smiling the whole time. Mycroft watched them with an expression that bordered on the extreme.

 

 _He’s sad_. William knew. He could see it in Mycroft’s posture, the turn of his lips, the state of his clothes, the exhaustion under his eyes. He was worried about something, but he wouldn’t tell William any of it. Instead, he set the untouched plate of pudding on the table and watched Kent teach William how to play the violin. He never said anything about it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

William was determined to uncover the secrets in the house, though. He wanted to know why everyone was upset and he was going to fix it if it was the last thing he did. He didn’t care how long it took, so long as it happened. Rudy was the most physically emotional out of everyone in the home, so he planned his attack there.

 

During one of their cooking lessons he watched Rudy with more attention than he’d ever given her before. He took in her hair, her makeup, her clothes, her weight, her posture. He took in the feeling of her arms as they wrapped around him, the press of her body against him, the way her voice modulated up and down.

 

He followed her around constantly, refusing to leave her side for anything. Instead of going to the Library to read, he stayed with Rudy and he engaged in more social conversation than he ever had before. It didn’t take him long to realize that Rudy got more emotional the longer he spent with her. She was on the verge of sobbing after one day of constant interaction. Alice eventually had to come and steer him away in order to let Rudy have some time to herself.

 

“Is _Rudy_ ill?” He asked Alice, but she shook her head and pushed him out of the kitchen completely so she could attend to the chef. Angry at being booted from the room, he hurried to find Greg. “Greg! Is Rudy sick?”

 

“Hmm? Rudy?

 

“Yes, is she sick?”

 

“ _She?_ ” Greg frowned and then opened and closed his mouth for a few moments. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Will…Rudy’s not a woman.”

 

“Of course she is – you’re blind! Don’t you say anything bad about Rudy!” Greg held up his hands just as Red Beard started barking along with William’s obvious agitation.

 

“Hold on, ya? Rudy’s a man through and through. He jus’ dresses like a dame to cook.”

 

“What’re you talking about? Rudy’s not a man!”

 

“Yes he is. He’s a good ‘un too. We go out for drinks every so often when our schedule allows. He’s a nice bloke, but he’s got some issues is all.”

 

“You’re lying and I don’t talk to liars, and I don’t let liars on my ship. You’re not going to be a pirate with me anymore!” William spun on his heel to march off, but Greg snatched his shoulder.

 

“Hold up, lad.” He said, petting Red Beard into submission when the dog seemed inclined to argue him manhandling the boy. “I don’t want to be kicked off your ship. Give me a chance to explain, ya?”

 

“Don’t you be mean to Rudy then!” Greg ran a tired hand over his face and scratched the back of his head.

 

“All right, all right. Who’ll you believe? Your brother? Would you listen to him?” William frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Mike’s busy.”

 

“That’s fine. We can wait for him, ya? Why don’t you and I do something together and I’ll do what you like to stay on your ship until then. If I’m wrong, I’ll walk the plank. Ya?”

 

“Yeah…” William allowed. “All right, but you’ll still walk the plank in the end!”

 

“Anything you say Captain Sherlock.” Greg told him with a sigh. He took a step back and held out his hand. William slipped his hand around the bigger palm, and tugged him off to the Library where they could Research together while they waited for Mycroft to come home.

 

They read together for several hours and William was very proud of himself for having completed his first quarter of the Library. He proudly slipped his newly finished book back onto the shelf and Greg politely congratulated him on his accomplishment. The corners of his eyes were creased somewhat as William told him of his goal to finish reading the whole Library by the end of the year, and offered token words of encouragement that William didn’t quite believe.

 

It was late by the time that Mycroft finally came home and Greg apologized to the teenager for circumnavigating his direction from his bed to the Library to talk to William about Rudy. Mycroft listened to the whole story from his little brother, how Greg was a liar who insisted that Rudy was male and how he needed to walk the plank.

 

“While a good plank walking is likely what many people in this home require,” Mycroft muttered uncharitably, “Greg is right in this instance.”

 

“ _What?”_ William all but shouted, leaping from the couch he was sitting on and waving his hands in the air to show his frustration. “No! No that’s wrong!”

 

“Rudy’s a cross-dresser, Will.” Mycroft said with a sigh. “He dresses like a woman while he cooks, likely because of some social interaction when he was a child that makes him feel as though it’s necessary to do so. He feels more comfortable dressing like a woman during those periods, but is quite masculine during all other aspects of his life. I believe he’s even married to a lovely woman in Brixton. It’s as simple as that.”

 

“But-but-”

 

“Now if we’re quite through. I’m exhausted. Come to bed?” He asked, holding his hand out to William. He took it unconsciously and was led from the room, murmuring a quiet apology to Greg as he passed.

 

“No trouble, little master.” Greg told him in reply.

 

“But I still don’t know the answer to my question.” William mumbled as Mycroft settled him in bed and pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Is Rudy sick?”

 

“Physically? No, I expect he’s quite well. Why?”

 

“Because he’s so sad lately. Kent says that _he’s_ not ill, and so I had to wonder if Rudy was?” Mycroft was quiet for a long while, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to William’s curls.

 

“Rudy’s not sick. Everyone’s fine. Go to sleep.”

 

William still was not contented in the least.

 

The next morning, he woke up to find that Mycroft had already left for work. He went and let Red Beard out in the garden and then got dressed for the day. He found Rudy in the kitchen and he watched him quietly as he cooked. Rudy eventually found him out and asked why he was just waiting in the doorway.

 

Hurrying over, William wrapped his arms around the cook who hugged him back in response. “I’m sorry I never knew you were actually a man and I thought you were a woman, but I really like you either way so can I still cook with you even though I don’t have any girl clothes to wear too?” Rudy gasped loudly and then sank to the floor so William could press his head against his shoulder instead of his waist. Rudy held him even tighter, for once not caring if his hands had been properly cleaned before touching William’s shirt. William didn’t care either and completely ignored the flour that stained his shirt sleeves now.

 

“You don’t need to wear anything other than what you like. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault. I don’t care what you wear. You’re still _my_ Rudy, right?”

 

“Right, of course, anything for you.” William could feel Rudy’s shoulders hitching under his hands and he frowned as he felt tears touching the side of his neck and shoulder.

 

“Why’re you crying? I didn’t mean to make you upset-”

 

“It’s not you, lad. It’s not you.”

 

“ _Are_ you ill?” William asked, panic starting to grow in his chest. When Rudy only started to cry harder, William looked around desperately for someone to help. The other staff members that were there were steadfastly ignoring the whole situation and there was nothing else he could do but just hold on and wait for Rudy to finish crying against his body.

 

“I’m not ill. I just – I love you lad. You know that right? You know I love you?”

 

“Oh…well I love you too, Rudy.” William said, not sure where this was going at all. Rudy just hugged him harder.

 

“And you’ll always remember me? No matter what? You’ll remember me, and the food we made together?”

 

“Sure, I know how to make all sorts of good things because of you.”

 

“Good, that’s good lad. Real good.” Rudy gave him another tight squeeze before pulling back to look William in the eyes. “You can call me Uncle Rudy, if you like.”

 

“Oh…kay…” William agreed, still rather uncertain and unsure if that was the correct response.

 

“Good, very good. Now, how about I show you something new? Hmm? You like that, you like new things don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I like new things.” William agreed again, head still spinning from all the information swirling about it. Rudy nodded and dried his eyes, noticing for the first time that he’d put flour all over both of them. Gasping in shock he hurried William to the sink to wash up properly and did the same.

 

William still wasn’t convinced Rudy wasn’t sick with something. He was acting _very_ odd.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Over the next week and a half, William discovered the following:

 

Alice and Greg had been dating for nearly three months.

 

Two of the cleaning staff members were stealing trinkets about the house.

 

One of the house guards had narcolepsy.

 

And seven other people had various other secrets that impacted them on a daily basis.

 

None of those bits of information explained why everyone was acting so oddly around him. Red Beard didn’t have any insight to offer either, and had taken to groaning miserably whenever William asked him for his opinion. It was unbelievably frustrating.

 

The only good news had been Kent’s violin lessons. William found himself looking forwards to the practice sessions, and while his hands were still too small to truly do well on Kent’s violin, he was starting to see the merits of playing it often. He liked listening to the sounds as they lifted off the strings. He liked the vibrations as the violin resonated through his body. He liked how the music cleared his mind and left him focused on one thing instead of the millions of other little things that wouldn’t let him concentrate.

 

It felt glorious.

 

Even when he wasn’t playing, he took to watching Kent practice. The man admitted that he hadn’t played much over the past few years, but that he used to be quite proficient at the instrument. William didn’t know what _used_ to be meant, considering that the music Kent crafted seemed brilliant.

 

He watched the man play well into the night, until Mycroft coaxed him to relocate to bed and he slept soundly until morning. He memorized the movement and the gentle swaying. He memorized the way that Kent seemed utterly focused on the instrument and nothing else. He hoped that one day he could be as talented as that.

 

“Do you write any of your own music?” He asked Kent once.

 

“All the time. I never play other composers.” Kent replied.

 

“ _Never?_ ”

 

“No…never.”

 

“Then…what’s the song you’re playing now called?” William asked, curious. He peered up at the sheet music on the stand that Kent had before him. It was all marked up with notes and figures. He didn’t see a title on the top of the page, and Kent just smiled at him.

 

“It doesn’t have a name yet, but you’ll be the first to know when it’s finished. How’s that sound?”

 

“Good.” William smiled at him, though Mycroft frowned heavier.

 

That night, when Mycroft was putting him to bed, his brother asked him a question that he hadn’t thought of in the least. “Do you miss mummy and daddy?” Mycroft’s voice was light hearted, an innocent suggestion in the dark. William frowned and made to sit up to talk to his brother properly, though Mycroft pushed him back down when he tried.

 

“No, not really. I don’t think about them. Do you?” William asked, uncertain.

 

“Sometimes. Sometimes when I think about them I do.” Mycroft licked his lips and opened his mouth to say something. He froze half way there, though, and shook his head. “Goodnight.” He said instead, moving to his own bed and climbing in.

 

“Goodnight.” William replied, frowning as his brother rolled over. The clock ticked down an hour, but William couldn’t fall asleep. Rather, he stared at the ceiling and dragged a hand across Red Beard’s fur. He felt his stomach twist uncomfortably in his chest as he thought about his parents for the first time in a long while.

 

He thought about his mother who just wanted to make things right. His father, who used to sit with him and listen to him talk about _everything_ and never complained. He thought about how they were so sad all the time, how they just wanted everything to work and nothing ever did. He thought about how they wanted to send them to school, and threatened to separate them if they didn’t go. William hadn’t liked that last suggestion, but it wouldn’t have been so bad if Mycroft had agreed to go to school in the first place.

 

He liked it in London with all the people around them. Back at home it had only been Mycroft and Sherrinford. Then Sherrinford left and their parents came back and it had felt just too suffocating. Maybe their parents should come and live with them in Kent’s house? They could get a job from Kent, he’d probably know a good position for them.

 

The thought circulated around William’s head and he pressed his face against Red Beard’s body. He wondered if their parents missed them. He hadn’t ever considered it before, and now that he had he couldn’t help but feel sad about leaving the way they did. Mycroft must be feeling guilty about it too, or he wouldn’t have brought it up.

 

Maybe that’s why everyone was so sad lately, maybe Mycroft was homesick and had talked to them about it and now they all thought _he_ was homesick too. William felt his stomach twist more and more and he hurried from his bed to the bathroom as he felt bile start pushing up his throat. Nothing came out, but Red Beard followed him and whined at his side.

 

He pressed his knees to his chest and nausea continued to plague him the more he thought about home and how they left things. He wished Mycroft had never brought it up, because he felt awful and he hadn’t felt like this in ages.

 

He imagined his father in the Library- his father would _love_ the books and the lighting and the furniture design. His mother would adore Rudy and would probably want to help him with everything from cooking to his makeup. Greg would like his parents too.

 

For the first time in nearly a year, William missed his family. He really wanted them to come home.

 


	2. Swan Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent spends his final days with William plotting him into his memory. He works with Mycroft in order to prepare him for the days ahead. Determined to spend one last night with the child before he goes home to his parents: he arranges for them to spend the night at the ballet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING SKIP IF YOU DO NOT WANT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER TO BE SPOILED: 
> 
> There is a car accident at the end of this chapter, not described in any excessive detail but there nevertheless. If accidents of this type are triggering to you, if you do not want to see the aftermath of such an event it may be best if you not continue reading this section of Brother Mine. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding, and I look forwards to providing you with stories without such content in the future.
> 
> ______________________________
> 
> Once again, thank you very much to my beta reader: Chanel. 
> 
> All remaining mistakes are my own, and I will be happy to edit this as soon as they're pointed out to me.

**Chapter:**

Kent watched over Mycroft and William constantly. He saw the moment William started down the path of no return. It hadn’t been a good sight. Mycroft looked more exhausted than he had in a long while and William refused to get out of bed. Alice, Greg and Rudy all attempted to rouse him up and do something, but William burrowed under his covers and adamantly refused to leave them. Greg took Red Beard out for a walk every few hours, before letting the dog return to William’s side. Kent sighed at the pitiful sight they all made.

 

“What did you say to him?” Kent asked Mycroft when the boy turned up ready for another day of training. Mycroft shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched them into fists.

 

“I asked him if he missed our parents.” Kent paused and considered that. William was an overly affectionate and attached child. While it likely never crossed William’s mind to consider his parents’ emotions, now that he was forced to think about it, clearly he _did_ still have an emotional attachment to them. He missed them, obviously, and wanted to see them. “Three weeks. I’ll send him home in three weeks. I’ll call Mummy and Daddy and have them come by within the next fortnight…and then by the third week William will be going with them.”

 

“Make the call yourself.” Kent told Mycroft firmly. “No one else will do this for you.” Mycroft nodded. He already expected that. “I’d like to take Will to the ballet before he goes.” Kent informed Mycroft in a candid tone. “He enjoys the violin; I believe he’ll enjoy the ballet as well.”

 

“All right. When?”

 

“Is tomorrow satisfactory?”

 

“Yes, it’s fine.” Mycroft didn’t seem to care one way or the other. He just folded in on himself more.

 

“You’ll be meeting with a woman today to go over emotion-” Mycroft laughed slightly before he finished and he paused. “Something funny?”

 

“I had a therapist once who told me I had anger management issues.”

 

“Oh, you do. Trust me. You do.” Kent left it at that, and Mycroft didn’t reply. He led the teenager through his office building, introducing him to important personnel here and there before finally handing him off to his latest mentor.

 

Mycroft would be busy with them for the rest of the day, so it gave him an opportunity to return to his home to oversee the William problem before it got too far out of hand. Mycroft may have anger management issues, but William was a drama queen. He took his personal vehicle back to his home, parking it carefully and then entering with a brisk nod to his doorman.

 

Greg quickly met him at the stairs to inform him that William hadn’t moved from bed all day and that he was likely not going to do so now. Kent thanked him appropriately and then maneuvered his way to the boy’s bedside.

 

Red Beard looked up as he entered, wagging his tail in greeting. He petted the dog on the head and then sat across from William. The boy was curled up under the blankets, covers drawn over his head, feigning sleep. His stomach was growling loudly and Kent realized that despite his best efforts he’d be truly displeased if some harm befell the child. He gave Mycroft far more credit than he had before, knowing it must have been horrifying for him to live with himself as William refused to eat any food that was placed before him. Kent wasn’t sure he’d have managed as successfully as Mycroft did back then. He didn’t enjoy it now.

 

“I’d like to take you to the ballet tomorrow night.” Kent told William, choosing to ignore the boy’s petulance. “ _Swan Lake_ is a fine piece of work, I believe you’ll enjoy it. Afterwards, I’ll teach you a variation on the violin.”

 

“I thought you didn’t play other people’s work.” William’s voice came from somewhere under the covers.

 

“I do for friends. Are you my friend, Will?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ve never told you to take a bath, but you don’t talk to me about pirates.”

 

“Let’s talk about pirates now then, shall we?” Kent offered. The boy tugged the blankets back and met his eyes. He’d been crying. His small face was scrunched up with misery and some of his curls were plastered against his skin. He looked far too young, and Kent knew he’d miss seeing him when he left.

 

“Can Mummy and Daddy come live with us?” William asked, cutting to the chase far sooner than Kent had anticipated. He’d expected that it would have taken more time to get William to open up to him, but the boy obviously had other plans. Kent could appreciate his strength of heart. He leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees.

 

“No, Will. They can’t.”

 

“There’s room for them.” William tried again, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Red Beard moved and pressed against his side and William’s hands immediately went to rub through his dog’s fine hair.

 

“There is.”

 

“And Rudy always makes enough food – did you know he was a man?”

 

“I did know he was a man, and he does make enough food.” Kent acknowledged.

 

“Then _why_ can’t they stay?” William asked, licking his lips before he returned to rolling his bottom one once more.

 

“Because I won’t allow it.” Kent replied honestly.

 

“Well, you’re mean and I hate you!” William cried out, yanking the cover back over his head and rolling over.

 

“You’ve every right to feel that way, Will. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, but I won’t allow them to stay. They can visit as much as they’d like. They can see you whenever they please, but they cannot live here.” William sat back up and Kent smiled slightly at the hopeful look on the boy’s face.

 

“Whenever I please? If I asked them to come up tomorrow, would they be able to?”

 

“What about the ballet?” Kent asked, honestly interested in the answer. William hesitated.

 

“The day after tomorrow. If I asked them to come up the day after tomorrow, would they be able to?”

 

“They have my permission to come up.” Kent agreed. William’s excitement wasn’t there, though. He still looked uncertain.

 

“Would they make me leave with them?” He asked softly. “Mycroft said, _ages_ ago, that if they knew where we were…if _anyone_ knew we were here and not with them that we’d have to leave and go back. I don’t want to go back there. I want to stay here with you. But…I miss them. I’d like to see them again. If I see them again, would they make me go home?”

 

“They cannot force you to return.” Kent replied, wording his response carefully. “If you were forced to go back, it would be because of someone else or some other factor.”

 

“What factor?”

 

“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be your parents fault.” William accepted the response and pressed his fingers to his mouth as he thought.

 

“Do you have parents?” He asked him.

 

“I did, they died many years ago.”

 

“Oh…what about other family? Do you have any kids?”

 

“Some, but I don’t speak with them. I haven’t seen them in a very long time.” William’s eyes widened with horror.

 

“You _don’t_? Don’t you miss them?”

 

“Every day of my life.” Kent told him. William shifted closer and Kent could feel the weight of the boy’s great blue eyes levied upon him. “I hadn’t expected to have a family, but once I had one, I couldn’t think of anything else. They left many years ago to forge their own way, a way that didn’t include me. I would give anything to see them again, but I know I never will.”

 

“Do you think I should go home?” William asked him. His voice was soft, nearly undetectable. He was nervous and uncertain. For all his endless love for his brother, he was still just a child. He was filled with a moral compass that always pointed north but he was easily influenced by outside forces. Kent looked up, knowing he was deciding this boy’s future now with his words.

 

“Yes, Will. I think you should go home.” William took the news gracefully. He didn’t flinch or try to hide from the words. Instead, he nodded sharply, and he hugged Red Beard closer to his body. “You’ll need a suit for the ballet, come – I’ll help you get fitted so you can wear one.”

 

“Is Mycroft coming with us to the ballet?”

 

“No, I think it’ll be just us for the night. Greg will accompany us for a time as our guard and we’ll have a private box through which to observe the performance.” He stood up and William followed. The child’s stomach growled loudly and Kent ran a hand through his curls. “First, why don’t you run down to Rudy and make yourself something to eat. You’ve gone far too long without sustenance.”

 

The boy did as he was told and Kent watched him and Red Beard leave together. He took a look around the bedroom. Mycroft kept it spotless, not one thing out of place. Aside from the clumps of dog hair that covered William’s sheets, the room was extraordinarily clean. Even so, he knew it would feel empty without William in it. He’d have a new room prepared somewhere else in the house for Mycroft to use when William left. The teen would have enough troubles without adding the heartache of William’s empty bed to them.

 

Kent walked through his home, giving attention to all the changes that had taken place since the boys had moved in all those months ago. The guards that had long since been stiff and formal now were more relaxed and aware of their surroundings. Kent could see the way they watched over the boy, with a fondness that couldn’t be denied. He didn’t doubt that their loyalties were still to the crown and their missions, but they cared for the child and wouldn’t see him harmed for anything.

 

Greg was the most blatant with his affections. He hadn’t cared about the shift change in the slightest. Instead, he seemed to bask in the change of position. He monitored the boy’s progress and reported back to Kent everything that he wanted to know. William’s intelligence, his reasoning, his problem solving skills were recorded daily. Kent was pleased to see that the boy truly was the shining star he’d thought he’d be. Mycroft’s opinion on him was clouded by bias and judgment, but Greg’s was not. Greg gave an open evaluation of the child, and was proud to do it.

 

Kent had seen Greg interact with William in various situations. He’d watched Greg comfort him when William was in hysterics over something seemingly trivial, and he’d listened as Greg swore he’d always be there to protect the boy. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, so long as I’m there, you understand?” Greg had asked him. William had looked up at him with wide eyes, uncomprehending of the weight of Greg’s oath. “I’m going to look after you, and you’re going to grow up to be that mighty pirate of yours, ya?”

 

“Yeah.” William had agreed.

 

Kent knew he’d told Mycroft he’d stay out of the way of arrangements going forwards, but Greg was one arrangement that he wouldn’t leave as a loose end. Mycroft had no power over the staff, yet, and Kent wouldn’t let this fall through the cracks. He called for Greg to meet him in his office while William was in the kitchen and the guard did as he was told in quick time.

 

Greg shut the door behind him and stood before Kent with perfect posture. Of all the guards he’d trained and had in his household, Kent was most proud of the versatility of this one. “You’re aware of the arrangements being made over William’s lodgings?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Kent nodded curtly at the response.

 

“You’ll be travelling with him. I’m uncomfortable with the thought of leaving him without protection after the time he’s spent here, and should Sherrinford be released and returned to his parents’ care, there will be no one he can truly turn if a pressing need arises.” Greg took the news gracefully, agreeing to the assignment without any fuss. Some might have deemed it to be beneath him, he’d been hired as a member of Kent’s staff after all – not a child’s. Greg didn’t seem overly concerned with that, however. Instead, he pressed for more information.

 

“Is that likely to occur, sir?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Is Sherrinford likely to be released into his parent’s care?”

 

“More likely than I’d prefer. He’ll be monitored, of course, and he’ll be removed immediately if he steps one toe out of line. Having you there is also to ensure nothing gets overlooked. The outside team can only observe so much. I want someone I can trust to be watching him for any sign of misconduct.”

 

“Of course, sir.” Greg nodded, cloaking his order around him and letting it seep into his skin. It was a part of him now, a part of the mission that he was duty bound to put into place.

 

“With any luck it won’t be an issue. Mycroft should have things well in hand by then and between the pair of us we’ll manage that situation with ease. Over the next week we’ll discuss counter measures to set in place and by the time Will goes home the danger should have passed entirely. For now, as Will doesn’t yet know of our plans, you’ll keep this to yourself.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Greg agreed once more. Kent dismissed him and he marched swiftly out the door to his young charge.

 

Kent sighed. There was still so much work to be done prior to William leaving and it all needed to be done right. Mycroft didn’t see the value in his brother yet; he was too worried about him to understand that William was going to be a politician Mycroft _wanted_ on his side rather than under his thumb.

 

They had time, however, and Kent was ready to make all the adjustments for his young apprentice. He’d see in the end.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Mycroft returned from work sooner than anticipated and he met Kent and Greg at the suit fitting for William. The young boy was rapt with attention through the whole experience, watching the tailor come and go with all of the materials he needed. Kent encouraged Mycroft to get a suit of his own, and so he joined his brother on the pedestal to be sized and measured.

 

They’d look charming when they were finished. Both brothers had the physique to fit into a good suit well and Kent looked forwards to seeing them presented side by side. He’d miss watching over them both. He’d miss William rather a lot, now that he truly thought about it. William’s departure was necessary, but it didn’t change the fact that it ached. It was like losing his family one more time. The blow was less fierce, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

 

The group decided to walk back to Belgravia. The constant deluge over the past week had let up and the sun was finally peeking through the clouds. William, dress shirt, slacks and all, scrambled onto a stone wall that circumnavigated a park they passed. He held his arms out to his side and balanced like a tightrope walker as he moved. Mycroft hurried to his side and held out his hand.

 

“Hold my hand so you don’t fall.” Mycroft requested, though it came out more like an order. William scoffed slightly at Mycroft’s statement and gave him a patronizing expression.

 

“I never fall.”

 

“You might one day, and if it’s today wouldn’t you be embarrassed to have refused my help to begin with.” Scowling at Mycroft’s reasoning, William took his hand and held it for the rest of his journey.

 

Kent’s heart squeezed. The ache hurt worse and worse.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next night, William stood in the foyer in his new suit. Someone had attacked his curls and bent them into submission. He looked very smart in his little shirt and tie. Red Beard was pressed against his side and Kent wouldn’t dream of separating them even in formal attire. There were some battles not worth fighting.

 

Mycroft waved them off, William kissed Red Beard good bye, and Greg led the way into their vehicle. William’s enthusiasm was boiling over and he was smiling at every sight they passed with excitement. Kent answered all of his numerous questions and he caught Greg grinning at the child’s anticipation.

 

Kent led the boy up to his box seat. William rushed past his chair to lean over the balcony and look at the stage. His eyes immediately sought the orchestra in the pit and he counted the musicians and memorized their position. “Do you think I’ll be good enough to play with them one day?” William asked Kent, looking over his shoulder.

 

“With the progress you’ve made thus far, I don’t see why not.” Kent replied, settling into his seat. The answer appeased the boy and he bounced on his toes as he leaned all his body weight on the bar. It held firm and didn’t budge in the slightest. The architects had William in mind when they built this box.

 

When the lights dimmed, Kent didn’t bother to have William sit down. No one else was around to see or complain about his posture. Music filled the hall and the dancers took center stage. With one eye on the ballet and one eye on William, Kent memorized the joy and wonder that crossed the boy’s face.

 

William was blown away by the majesty of the performers and he leaned closer and closer to watch them. He wanted to reach out and become a part of their world, embrace it as his own. His fascination was infectious, and Kent leaned into his seat.

 

As a final night of leisure before the many weeks of torment before Will went home, this had been worth it. One last experience to hold close before Will left. It was made all the better when the curtain closed and Will turned to look at him.

 

“Thank you Captain Thomas, I loved it.”

 

He had nothing left to say but “I’m glad.”

 

Side by side, they walked back to their car and climbed inside. Kent put an arm around the boy’s shoulders and listened to him talk rapid fire about the ballet, the music, the dancing, _everything_. He settled into complacency and gleefully thought of nothing at all.

 

That is, until a truck crashed into the side of their vehicle and the world twisted on its side, pitching awfully as William’s joy descended into terrified shrieks of horror.


	3. Losing the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER SPOILED.
> 
> Kent, Greg, and William are captured by an unknown assailant. Kent deals with what he's hoped to avoid his entire career: the death of his loved ones, or the delivery of state secrets to a terrorist organization. 
> 
> Afterwards, Mycroft has to deal with what is left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Torture, Minor Character Death, and Physical Harm to Minors
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader: Chanel!

Kent’s head was spinning. When he opened his eyes the world was blurred and striated with black and gold. The gold moved from side to side like a pendulum and shadows crossed before it.

 

“Get him in the back.”

 

Glass shattered somewhere by his head and he blinked sluggishly in an attempt to see what was happening around him. He tried to move his hand to the side but it wouldn’t react to his commands. Instead, it only twitched uselessly.

 

“Move, move!”

 

Someone was screaming, high pitched and petrified. Another voice was struggling over the din in an attempt to calm it, but it kept ringing. It grew louder and louder until it peaked and white noise blotted everything out.

 

Kent could feel something grabbing onto his body and he moaned in pain, reality crashing around him as he registered his own injuries. Head, shoulder, back, side, leg- he _ached_ like the damned. A moan was pulled from his throat as another rough tug snatched his arm.

 

There was an explosion, somewhere, a rapport report of gunfire and a shuddered yell of surprise.

 

“Run, Will! _Go!_ Damn it, _Will!_ ”

 

Bodies moved this way and that, completely useless and unnecessary. Kent couldn’t make out who was who, or exactly what had led to this muddled confusion. In his mind he could see the ballet, the dancers spinning round and round – William watching in awestruck delight.

 

 _William_.

 

“Quickly!”

 

Kent squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open, he pressed his head against his arm and rubbed his sleeve against his eyes. His vision cleared just enough to make sight of the disaster that was around him. The side door was wide open and Greg was firing over the hood of the vehicle, standing protectively over William’s body. The boy was shaking violently, frozen with fear and confusion. Greg was struggling to keep William safe, had tried to get him to flee, but the boy’s legs hadn’t cooperated. His hands were pressed against his ears and his eyes were squeezed tight.

 

 

He was just a child.

 

William was _leaving_ this life. What the _hell_ went wrong?

 

“Grab the kid!”

 

Another volley of gunfire and Kent watched as Greg’s shoulder was pierced. He stumbled backwards, hesitating just enough for another bullet to hit him. He fell, arching back onto the ground and disappearing just out of sight. William was on him in an instant, shaking and screaming and crying.

 

Someone snatched him about the waist.

 

“Let me go! Greg- _Greg!_ ”

 

He was being carried away. Kent tried to force himself upright but he didn’t quite make it. It hardly mattered. A stranger appeared and he was dragged forwards. He gasped in pain and was ignored. His eyes sought out William and he was gratified to see that he was being carried in the same direction as the child.

 

Where he’d been frozen before, now William was fighting back with everything he had. He was thrashing in his captor’s arms, kicking and clawing, even biting at anything that came near him. It was entirely useless.

 

 _“MYCROFT!”_ William screamed for his brother, repeating his name over and over again with equal effect each time. Kent could hear something else being dragged and he looked back to see that Greg had been pulled up and was being brought with them.

 

William was thrown into the van first. Then Kent. Then Greg.

 

Kent couldn’t move, still pained and dazed from the accident, but Greg could. Even bloodied and injured, he dragged himself over to where William had been tossed and pulled the boy into his arms. William clung onto him desperately, hyperventilating and crying loudly.

 

It was an awful thought to think at a time like this, but all Kent was able to focus on for the remainder of their fast paced and successful kidnapping was that William’s suit was ruined.

 

He’d liked that suit.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They were never separated. Kent was grateful for that at least. Even as he faded in and out of consciousness, he was always aware that William and Greg were still with him. It would make their rescue easier and it would slow down their abductors. The attack was well executed, obviously, but the longer he stayed with them, the more likely they were to be found. It shouldn’t have happened to begin with and Kent was going to restructure his staff as soon as he was back home.

 

William had stopped crying and instead was shivering violently against Greg’s side. The bodyguard had wrapped him with his jacket, wincing as the movement tugged at his injuries. His shoulder was still bleeding, but it was tapering off. The bullet wound to his side had been superficial at best and had already stopped.

 

  1. Kent’s mind supplied as he looked at the child. _He’s going into shock._



 

He didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt sluggish and useless as it was and now that he was in this situation he was drawing a blank. There was nothing comforting he could offer the boy. He was a bystander in a bloody battle between him and the rest of the world. There was literally no use in having either Greg or William along on this journey and the more Kent tried to think about the reasons they were taken, the more his head ached and he wished he’d not thought of it at all.

 

For the most part, no one spoke.

 

They switched vehicles at least three times, although it could have been more since Kent wasn’t entirely conscious through most of it, and the journey felt endless. By the time the world stopped spinning, the wheels stopped turning, and they were being taken out of their latest van, the sun was already up.

 

William’s legs weren’t cooperating properly and Greg pulled him up into his arms, hissing from pain and gasping with each step. Sweat poured from Greg’s head. Kent wished he could formulate some kind of chastisement towards the guard but he couldn’t manage it. Greg was doing the only thing he knew how: protecting William as best he could for however long he had. He, like Kent, already knew what the most likely endgame of this situation was going to be. It wasn’t going to be pretty for any of them.

 

They were put into a small empty room with bars on the window. The door was locked tight behind them, and Greg immediately collapsed in the corner. Kent settled across from them and watched as Greg tried to comfort the child. William was still shivering, and no matter how softly or gently Greg spoke, it didn’t look like he’d stop anytime soon.

 

“We’re going to get through this, Will.” Greg lied to the boy. Kent appreciated the effort. “We’re going to get through this, and you’re going to be a pirate, and we’re going to go sailing off on adventures, ya? You, and me, and Red Beard. Sherlock and his crew, ya?” He nudged the boy. “Come on, ya?”

 

“Yeah.” William whispered. It was broken and uncertain, but Greg took it for what it was. At least it was a response.

 

“Good lad, good lad. We’re going to be fine. No one takes out Captain Thomas, ya? His whole crew’s going to look for us and we’re going to be just fine. You’ll see.” He stroked William’s hair and held him closer, wincing as the bullet tugged his shoulder.

 

All they had left to do now was wait.

 

And wait.

 

And wait.

 

The door opened, and they all looked up.

 

A man strode in, raised a gun, and Kent didn’t have time to shout a warning, a plea for leniency, or a fevered goodbye, before the bullet struck home and splattered out from the back of Greg’s head. William screeched, throwing himself back from the shock and the horror, scrambling away and shaking his head in confused fear.

 

Two more men snatched the boy up, one at each arm. They dragged him forwards and settled him right before Kent. The gunman leveled his pistol to the back of William’s head.

 

That’s when the questions started.

 

With Greg lying dead on the ground and William shaking apart before his eyes, that’s when the questions started. Kent swore an oath years ago to never betray his country, and at the time he never thought he would.

 

But as he watched in silence, ever cognizant of the passage of time via the light through the window, he could feel shards of his soul stripping from his chest. He watched as they smacked William’s face, as they punched him in the gut, as they broke his arm.

 

He had sent his own family away to avoid this. He had refused to speak with them, turned his back on them, had shut them out to avoid this.

 

Sentiment. Sentiment was what led to this. He’d been far too complacent.

 

“Tell us what we need to know,” he was ordered as the gun leveled to the back of William’s head. He knew that he had only hours left until his own response unit found them. He knew that if he held out just a bit longer, they’d be saved. But if this continued for much longer, he also knew that he’d talk. He had no desire to see William in pain, no desire to see him die.

 

The safety was off. The man’s patience was fading. If they killed William they’d truly have nothing, but there were so many things that could be done to him that they still had yet to explore. Bones could break, bruises would fade, but there were atrocities that would never heal and Kent wanted no part of any of it.  

 

His tongue played on the catch behind his back molar. He could feel the small capsule release and he rolled it in his mouth. Looking at William, he knew that for once in his life he was being a coward. He knew that William would likely not last the next few minutes, let alone the wait for the response team to arrive. He knew that he’d have to watch the boy’s life end simply by virtue of him being too sentimental about saying goodbye. William should have been at home with his brother, not with him at the ballet.

 

“I’m sorry, Will. Truly am.” He said to the boy. William was looking back at him with tear tracks drenching down his face. He was still shivering violently after all this time and Kent grimaced. William’s mouth parted, as though to speak, but no words came out. Kent took his opportunity; he broke the capsule between his teeth, and he _burned_.

 

William’s screams turned desperate and longing, and Kent’s mind broke and shattered in the face of such a violent end. _Swan Lake_ echoed in his mind, and his last thoughts were like a broken mirage that flashed before his eyes. He saw the beauty of the ballet and counterpoint to it all was  a screaming child that never wanted it to end.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Mycroft had been wringing his hands in his lap for what seemed like days. He’d been called in to consult on the kidnapping of a government official. It was only when he’d arrived that he realized which official had been taken, and who had been with him. He felt like he was running out of fuel, like his body was falling into a pit of despair that he’d never get out of.

 

He should have sent William home weeks ago… _months_ ago. He should have packed him up and never looked back. William had no business being in London and he’d been warned so many times that it was dangerous around Kent. He’d been told over and over that Kent’s way of life offered no room for sentiment.

 

He was _told_ that tragedy struck loved ones; everyone around Kent died. He _knew_ the life expectancy of his job, and that there was a reason that Kent lived alone and sent his family far away. He knew all of this, and spat in its face. His arrogance had cost him his brother. His little brother had been kidnapped and it had been entirely his fault.

 

He tracked the patterns, he followed the vehicles, he assembled a team and he sent them all out, but in the end there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable. William had already been taken, whatever horrors he saw would be his alone to bear and nothing could change that. Mycroft had failed.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to eat, nor to sleep, as he waited. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but hope that something came of all of this. He wanted anything except a body bag. He could work with pain and trauma, but he couldn’t heal death. He couldn’t fix that.

 

A phone rang nearby and his head lifted. One of the staff members answered it and then received the information. She turned to Mycroft. “Thomas Kent and his bodyguard are dead. William is en route to St. Mary’s hospital now.”

 

Mycroft left the room without thanking her or saying a word. He all but ran down the stairs and towards the door. He was just about to cross the threshold when a hand fell down on his shoulder. It was one of his new mentors, one of the new faces in his life that he’d sworn allegiance and apprenticeship to.

 

“Do not go to him.” He was told firmly.

 

“I have to, he’s my brother-”

 

“He was taken because of his familiarity with Kent. If you leave now and rush to his side, you’ll prove to the world that he is still a target worth pursuing. He’ll be taken again and he might not make it back alive next time. Stay here. Send a staff member to oversee his rehabilitation. Then send him home. Do not speak with him.”

 

“I- _he’s my brother!_ ”

 

“And we have all lost siblings, children, and loved ones in the course of this job. You chose this path, Mycroft Holmes. You cannot leave it now. If you want your brother to live, then you will leave him alone. Send him home. Do not delay.”

 

Mycroft felt his breath come in short bursts and his head ached badly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the nausea that had started to boil in his gut. He felt physically ill. He felt as though the world had been yanked out from under his feet, like it had stopped spinning and he was the only one still orbiting about the sun.

 

Everything hurt.

 

He forced himself to walk back to the planning room. He forced himself to stumble through the mission he was still overseeing. He tried to ignore the fact that his brother, _eight years old_ , was in a hospital somewhere by himself. He tried to ignore the guilt that was building in his heart.

 

It didn’t work.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Mycroft heard the reports time and again. He listened to the story from start to finish. He listened to operatives tell him how they failed to keep Kent’s vehicle secure, how Greg had tried to save William and failed, how Greg was shot in front of William and Kent, how William was tortured ( _mildly_ was the term they used though Mycroft loathed to hear it) in an attempt to convince Kent to give information, and how Kent had committed suicide only three minutes before his response team arrived.

 

William had a broken arm, three cracked ribs, a mild concussion and various scrapes and bruises that were inconsequential. He also wasn’t talking to anyone. He had asked for Mycroft only once, but when he’d been told that Mycroft wasn’t able to come, he hadn’t asked again. It was the last time anyone had heard his voice since he was found.

 

Mycroft arranged everything with the staff members at Kent’s home. Alice was inconsolable, and so he’d bypassed her to the others that loitered about the house like flies around rotting flesh. He requested a police escort to come for his brother at a set time, and he informed everyone on site that William was no longer a part of the household.

 

Red Beard sat with him in the Library as he stared at the walls, not knowing what he was meant to do or say. Kent’s violin lay untouched by the stand, his paperwork was all neatly filed in his locked cabinet. Everything was exactly as it had been just a few days prior, and yet the world was so different now.

 

Mycroft pressed his face into Red Beard’s fur, and the dog let him. The Irish Setter rested his head against Mycroft’s shoulder and for hours they held onto each other like the last lifeline of a ship doomed to sink. Someone came in to quietly inform him that William’s bags had been packed and were waiting by the door. Mycroft thanked him without looking up.

 

He had seen enough tears and enough tragedy in the faces of those around him to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t sure he could do it again. Not right now. Red Beard nuzzled the side of his face and for the first time since the dog came into their lives, Mycroft was thankful to have him with him. He wished he’d had more time to enjoy Red Beard, and he wasn’t even sure if he enjoyed him now.

 

Though he could see the appeal.

 

A car pulled up out front and Mycroft knew the policemen would be there shortly. The front door opened and he took a deep breath. Red Beard must have smelled his master because he pulled away from Mycroft and hurried to greet William as he came home. Mycroft followed him out and nearly broke in the face of adversity that stood before him in the guise of his little brother.

 

William looked awful. He was battered and bruised and miserable, and he looked up at Mycroft with soulful eyes that begged for understanding and help. Mycroft wouldn’t be able to give him any of it. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t make it better. All he could do was make things worse for his brother, because the only way to keep him safe was to remove him entirely from the equation.

 

“You’re going home within the next few minutes. I’ve had the staff pack your bags.” Mycroft informed William without preamble. He couldn’t bring himself to even ask the boy if he was all right. He wasn’t. Mycroft could see that plain as day.

 

William stared at him. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Red Beard was at his feet, pressing against his hand, but William didn’t even bother to pet him. He just stood motionless before his brother and did _nothing_.

 

Mycroft couldn’t remember a time when William looked so despondent. He couldn’t remember a time when William was so still and so…fragile. He had always thought William to be weak and rather useless at certain endeavors, but he’d never imagined him to be delicate. He was now, though. He was now.

 

Police lights filtered through their windows. They were ready to take William home now, post haste. Tears had started to form in William’s eyes and Mycroft watched the light reflect through them as they fell. His face was marred with so much colour already that the effect was horrifying in its beauty and unique quality.

 

The door opened and the officers stepped inside. “Goodbye, William.” Mycroft told his brother, before forcing himself to turn around and walk up the stairs.

 

“Mycroft…” William whispered, broken voice carrying straight to his ears. Mycroft didn’t turn around. He couldn’t look back. Not this time. “Mycroft…” He could hear someone trying to move William towards the door. Red Beard was whining from all the chaos that was filling their normally stoic foyer. “ _Mycroft_.” One foot forwards. One step at a time. He tried to ignore the sound of his brother’s voice breaking. William was struggling now, Red Beard was barking. Someone had scooped the dog up, though, and Mycroft could hear the whining intensify as the dog tried to move. “ _Mycroft, no!_ ” His brother broke through and was rushing up the stairs now, Mycroft felt William’s fingers dig into his arm. He held firm, shaking his head frantically.

 

One of the officers caught hold of William and picked him up. He jerked William’s body away so his hand left Mycroft’s arm. Mycroft could feel skin break as his brother’s nails were jerked free. The boy yelped as his broken ribs were agitated, but he wasn’t released as he fought to escape. Mycroft stood frozen as he watched William be carried towards the door.

 

“Don’t send me away! Don’t make me go! Mycroft- _Mycroft!_ I don’t want to go! I don’t want to! I-” The front door closed, creating a walled barrier between them. He could hear Red Beard barking, he could hear his brother crying and fighting to escape, but the exact words were muted.

 

The squad car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street. William was gone. Greg was gone. Kent was gone.

 

Mycroft looked at the house that stood valiantly around him. Alice and Rudy were by the kitchen door, both crying together. Even some of the guards looked like they wouldn’t be lasting much longer. They looked to him for guidance, but Mycroft had nothing to say.

 

Nothing was supposed to be like this. This new world was supposed to be the perfect balance of the old and the new. He was going to be brilliant at his job, and he’d still have William as a brother and a friend.

 

He should have listened to Kent all those months ago.

 

Sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side.

 

And he’d lost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story thus far. There is one final story for this Series' first arc, and it will be posted in the coming days. There are, roughly, four arcs to this series that will continue to be posted as quickly as I can. I hope you've enjoyed it all thus far!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: http://falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr: http://falcon-fox-and-coyote.tumblr.com


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